Dog Days
by ej8012
Summary: After a backfired spell, Arthur finds himself turned into a dog. When a North American nation finds him, but mistakes him for an actual dog, Arthur could strangle him. Still, at least it isn't that blood French frog... USUK, dog!Arthur. Multi-Chap, yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Expect a lot of fluff. Mainly Arthur's fur ^^ Anyways, this is my third Hetalia fic. And, being a big lover of USUK I had to make something focusing around that pairing. And thus, this idea was born! ^^ So then, leave a review if you would be so kind, and tell me how I did. Thank you for reading ^^

**Warnings: **I don't own, yaoi, swearing, and France.

* * *

This was not how England wanted to spend his weekend. Why didn't the spell work? He had looked over his pentacle multiple times, looked over the charm several, and finally crushed the right herbs into atoms. Then the entire thing blew up in his face. Well, not quite literally…

Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England, and the representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, had turned himself into a dog. And not just any dog, but a border collie. Which wouldn't be so bad, except if Scotland ever learned England would not hear the end of it. At least England hoped no one would ever hear about it in the first place, but he was starting to change his mind.

Blast it all, I'm hungry! But I can't even open any cupboards, England thought to himself, walking into his kitchen to try again. His cupboards, a fine dark wood, now had long scratches from his claws when he tried to open them. Even a few biscuits or scones would be nice, the nation-turned-dog thought. I'd eat anything at this point! Well, anything except for those dratted hamburgers, he thought.

It wasn't like he just lay around the house, either. Since he was unable to get outside, he was forced to piss in the guest bathroom. The guest bathtub, to be more accurate, but still… Luckily the smell was kept to that one room. It wasn't going to be pleasant to clean up, though… If England ever got turned back into a human, that was.

His phone started to ring, but since it was out of his reach he was forced to listen to yet _another _voicemail come in. Not like he could have replied, since he was unable to speak or say anything.

"Hey, Iggy! Where are you? You said you'd come over to check over the latest trade deal before the meeting, but you never showed! Are you all right? I'm coming over," America said, his voice turning from cheery to worry in the span of five seconds. England looked over at the phone and then the door, sighed, and walked over to his favorite chair to sit. If America was going to break into his house, he might as well get comfortable and enjoy the peace while it lasted.

* * *

True to his words, America was knocking on England's door barely ten minutes later. How exactly he had managed to get across London so quickly was a mystery the island nation had long since given up solving. The knocking woke up the sleeping dog, and the shouting helped bring him into awareness.

"Hey, Iggy! Yah in there? It's me, Alfred, your hero," America shouted, pausing to try to hear movement inside the house. Nothing, of course, since Arthur wasn't able to open the door. He jumped off his chair and pawed at the door anyway. "What the hell…? Arthur? I'ma break your door down if you don't open it now!" Alfred's voice was panicked, and his destruction of the English language tore at Arthur's ears. It's about bloody time, he thought. At that point he would listen to America's Southern drawl just for some food. _Southern drawl_.

The door suddenly was hit with the entire weight of the North American nation, and England realized it would be best to move out of the way before he was crushed. Moving aside, the door blew open right as he moved into the clear. America swore as he fell onto the floor, blow only cushioned by the door he had charged into. He sprang to his feet quickly, as energetic as always. Arthur took the chance to let out a whine, causing his fellow nation to whirl around like a gunshot just went off. Alfred let out a nervous laugh when he saw Arthur.

"Oh, hello boy. I didn't know Artie got a dog. Must be why he hasn't replied, right?" He asked, rubbing the back of Arthur's ear gently. Usually England would have been annoyed, but just seeing the nation made him feel better, oddly enough. And while he mostly wanted Alfred to figure out that the dog in front of him was England, he also wanted to eat something. "That's strange though… Usually Iggy runs out and yells at me when I break his door down. Huh, what's this?" Yes, _finally_, Arthur thought.

When he had realized he was transforming into a dog, Arthur had grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, quickly writing down that he had been turned into a dog and that the nation reading the letter (most likely France or America) should bring him to Norway as soon as possible. Norway was also a practitioner of magic, though nowhere near the level of England. Still, it was the best he could hope for…

"Huh. Ok, it's a letter. But damn, I can't read any of it. And Arthur thinks I have messy handwriting… Ok, I can read 'Norway' and 'hurry', but that's it… And…" The letter floated to the floor slowly as America realized who wrote it. "Arthur's in danger!" He cried out, spinning around and nearly hitting England in the face. He growled softly and poked Alfred with his nose in the back of the knee. "Oh, you, Iggy's dog. I guess you must be hungry." America let out a weak laugh as he patted Arthur on the head, causing the island nation to pull away. "Oh, um, I guess you probably don't trust me. I mean, I _did _just knock down your master's door. Here, let's get yah something to eat," he said, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

With that, the younger nation walked off into the kitchen. England sighed as well as a dog could, a little annoyed that his note hadn't worked. Well sorry he couldn't write very well when his hands were turning into paws! At least his handwriting was usually readable; unlike a certain North American nation…

Said nation made far too much noise as he opened up all the cupboards, making loud remarks about 'Iggy's food being even worse then usual'. Arthur winced and padded into the kitchen. Hopefully he'd be able to keep the damage to a minimum.

* * *

"Yes, I already told you, England's gone missing and we have to find him!" A pause, and then, "no, of course I didn't- what the hell? Francis, that's disgusting! I'll be sure to tell Mattie to kick your ass next time he sees you. I'm not one of you weird European perverts; I don't kidnap people and put them in my basement." If possible, Arthur would have been red with embarrassment, being all too able to hear both sides of the conversation. As it was, he had to deal with looking out the window and moping. At least I'm not hungry, he thought. Though being fed the meat of a hamburger patty wasn't exactly his idea of good food.

"Mon cher America, I meant no offense. After all, if you felt that way for mon cher England, then you would have had sex by now, oui?" France was even more annoying to England then usual. Even Alfred, who was so used to the special relationship jokes that _he _had started making them, tightened his grip on the wheel and nearly turned into the wrong lane. Well, that was normal, actually, in London.

"France. This is not funny. England is missing! We need to get him back!" America practically shouted into his phone, ignoring the sounds of horns honking at his terrible driving. Arthur was wondering if he was going to throw up for the second time that day (the first was the smell of the hamburgers stinking up the rental car).

"Why don't you call Mattieu? It is possible Arthur simply wanted to spend some time away from work, non?" Francis suggested. Arthur was surprised to see a hurt look in Alfred's face, like the idea that England would rather spend time with Canada was physically painful.

"No! He wouldn't do that! I, um, mean… He left his dog at home. Iggy wouldn't do that!" It was gone within moments, replaced by a stubborn anger that Arthur hadn't seen in a long time. It brought back painful memories, and he went back to looking out the window, realizing he hadn't purposefully turned to look at America. He just had. What France said next England didn't hear, but America sighed. "Ok, whatever. I'm going to be in my hotel in London if you hear any news, but please, don't go telling everyone. I know you do care about what happens to him, even if you just want to get into his pants." Alfred hung up and gave the dog next to him a wide smile.

He reached over and rubbed Arthur's head and scratched the back of his ears. Without meaning to, England wagged his tail for a few moments before stopping and wishing he could scowl. Alfred laughed and turned back to the road.

"A friend of mine is missing. Your master, actually. I'm sure he's safe, though… Until then, what are we going to call you? I guess Iggy probably has some really weird name for you… So how about Lancelot? I mean that was one of Arthur's knights, right?" America asked.

Arthur let out a hacking noise, somewhere in between choking and dry heaving. If he was going to be called Lancelot until transformed back, he was going to kill America. This was absolutely ridiculous! Why didn't France find him? Then again, even America was better than that perverted bastard.

"Oh, ok, not your name. Is it something to do with King Arthur?" Alfred asked, smiling falling a little. Arthur looked at him and nodded. America blinked before nodding, in thought. "Ok… Merlin?" More coughing. "Huh. I don't know of any others except Arthur…" England nodded quickly and Alfred laughed. "Don't tell me Artie named you after him! And he says I have a big head… Ok then! You're Arthur too, huh? I'll call yah Artie! I'm Alfred, or the United States of America!"

Something told England that this was going to be painful until the spell wore off. Because surely the spell would wear off. After all, it wasn't permanent…

* * *

The first thing that Alfred did upon getting back to his hotel was get into an argument about allowing pets into his room. As annoying as it was, Arthur was glad that Alfred was so stubborn, or else he might not have gotten Arthur the dog (as he was being called, much to his annoyance) in at all. Looking around, it was just like America to leave his dirty clothes everywhere. A wrinkled suit hung messily over a chair, and his nice pair of shoes were half-covered by an empty bag of crisps.

"I guess you aren't used to a mess, eh Artie?" Alfred said with a laugh, kicking off his sneakers and sitting down on his bed. He patted the cover in front of him and England hesitated. He wasn't a dog, damn it! He was a nation! He also was relying on a stupid American until further notice, but that didn't really matter. He sighed as much as a dog could before jumping onto the bed, sitting down and resting his head on his paws so his green eyes could stare moodily at America. "So then… I've had a dog before, but it's been a while. I don't suppose London has a Petsmart… Well then, we'll just have to head back to the States! You'll love it there; it's not nearly as wet, and there's a lot more places to go for walks and stuff," he said cheerfully, patting the top of England's head. England resisted the urge to groan. How was he supposed to transform back if he wasn't even in England?

Giving Arthur a worried look, Alfred yawned and stood up, stretching his arms before starting to pull his shirt off. Oh shit, Arthur thought. At least it isn't France, he tried to convince himself, but it didn't really work. The last time he had seen America shirtless was back in World War Two, and that was only because the idiot had gotten himself shot in the shoulder. For a bisexual nation like Arthur (well, actually, most of the male nations were bisexual, if not plain homosexual), seeing a well-built and mildly tanned Alfred was more then enough to turn your face red.

Arthur moaned and buried his head in the sheets, rubbing his face into them for a few moments. Then he pulled he head out in disgust. Even the blood git's sheets smelled like hamburgers and grease! Alfred looked back at Arthur and laughed, pulling out an old McDonald's bag from under the covers.

"Whoops, knew I forgot something," he said, crumpling it into a ball and shooting it at the trashcan. It went in from a mix of the American's skill with sports and his seeming inability to throw things away normally. "I guess I don't have a dog bed for you… So you can sleep with me!" Yes, England decided, it's good France didn't find me. But this was hardly any better… Why couldn't it have been Japan? Or even that nation above America… Whatever his name was.

Alfred yawned again, probably still recovering from jetlag, and fell onto the bed, nearly crushing England's snout. He yelped and jumped off the bed, glaring daggers at the nation in front of him. For his part, America gave Arthur a sheepish look, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, sorry about that, Artie. Here, it's ok. I don't bite." The concern in his voice was so real, England almost listened to him. Instead he snorted (well, coughed) and went off to the farthest corner of the room. Pushing another empty bag of crisps aside, England circled three times (he was acting more like a dog every day, damn it. Next he'd be sniffing fire hydrants and digging up gardens) before sitting down to sleep, keeping a wary eye on Alfred. "Ha… You're just like Iggy, y'know. He always gets mad when I ask to sleep with him, too. Ah… Well, tomorrow we'll catch a flight back to the good ol' US of A, and then I won't have jetlag anymore. G'night, Artie." Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. Not like the bloody nation would try anything…

* * *

The next morning, England and America were on a private flight out to New York City, where the North American nation would work on finding England. Arthur could have strangled Alfred for his stupidity, except he didn't have hands. Or thumbs, for that matter. As it was, at least Arthur wasn't forced into a dog cage. Partly because he would have murdered anyone who tried to put him in one, but mostly because Alfred didn't like cages either.

"So, yah want to eat some dog food or what?" America asked, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. He was sitting on a long couch that wrapped around a circular table, there so the passengers of the plane could eat more comfortably. Arthur glowered at Alfred, who laughed. "Ok, not dog food. What does Iggy feed yah, anyway? Hopefully none of his scones, those could kill Russia!" He joked. Arthur sighed, but he was far too used to the jokes about his cooking. Honestly, it wasn't his fault if they came out a little burnt… Or blackened.

"Sir, here's your food," a man suddenly said, giving America his plate full of hamburgers and chips. The flight attendant looked at the dog next to him and raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to get something for your dog?" He asked. England sighed, though he supposed he'd have to get used to being called a dog. He'd be sure to yell at America when he got transformed back.

"Eh? Oh, get him some hamburger meat! He likes that, don'tcha, Artie?" Alfred said, taking a huge bite out of his food and scratching the back of Arthur's ears. It felt good, and that was the only reason England didn't pull away. Of course, the terrible smell of fast food (technically airplane food, which was hardly any better) didn't help. The idea of eating hamburger sounded disgusting, but it was that or dog food, and Arthur did_ not _want to learn what that tasted like.

"Ok, sir," the man said, walking away without blinking an eye. He probably has seen stranger, Arthur thought. A minute later, a plate of warmed hamburger meat was placed on the table in front of him. Mentally promising himself to never eat another hamburger once he was turned into a human again, Arthur started to eat.

"You're more fun then Iggy," America said between inhaling his food and breathing. "He never eats hamburgers! He only likes his weird scones and whatever the heck-English food is. I mean, how do English people survive? I probably would have died if I ate anymore of his food as a kid," he exclaimed. England didn't say anything (obviously), but made a mental promise to get Alfred to eat his food when he was transformed back. He'd show that bloody bastard…

* * *

"Hey, Mattie. You got my call then? I know, right? So Iggy is definitely not with yah? Oh, damn. I was kind of hoping he was just hiding from me, or something. Yes, I e-mailed Kiku. He says he hasn't heard from Arthur in ages. Ok, a few days, same difference. Yeah, I'm on my way back to the States with Iggy's dog. You didn't know he had one? I know I didn't, either!" Arthur was woken from a nice nap (on a very comfortable airplane seat) by the sound of a certain American chattering away on his phone. He was obviously talking to his brother (Canada, that was his name!) about the 'missing' England.

Deciding that he couldn't do anything until he was able to communicate (in some way, shape, or form) with Alfred, Arthur continued to sit in silence, listening to the conversation between the two. It was interesting, since he was only able to hear Alfred's part.

"What do you mean, he's more of a cat person? England's more of a 'no pets, no problems' person. Yes, yes, I know it's strange of him to have a dog. But maybe he was just lonely! N-No! I did _not _kidnap Arthur! Have you been talking to France again? That pervert… I'm going to punch him, next time I see him. Oh, is he in the room with you? What the hell are you doing with my brother, you perverted nation!" Arthur whimpered, Alfred's shouting hurting his sensitive ears. And he thought it was bad when he was a human… "Oh, hold on." A pause. "Artie, you ok boy?"

No, I'm not all right. I accidently turned myself into a dog because my spell backfired, haven't eaten anything except for hamburger meat for days, and I have an itch behind my left ear that I cannot scratch. I'm on an airplane to New York without any way of turning myself back to normal, and I have a mountain of paperwork that needs to be done, Arthur thought moodily to himself.

"Hey, there. I thought I heard yah whimper. You need some water or something?" Just thinking about water reminded England of one more thing; he really needed to use the bathroom. "Yeah, I thought Artie needed something. Anyway, I gotta go, we're landing in ten. Punch France of me, ok? Love yah too, bro. No, I don't love you Francis." With a sigh, Alfred hung up his phone and sat next to Arthur, running a hand through Arthur's soft fur. "I hope Iggy is ok… It's not like him to suddenly disappear, y'know?" Alfred said, sighing.

It's not like I wanted this to happen, Arthur thought. He was drifting back to sleep when a heavy weight suddenly appear on him, causing him to try to jolt upright. He found himself unable to, mainly because America had just fallen asleep and was now using him as a pillow. Swearing that he'd turn Alfred into one of those bloody eagles he loved so much (after he, finally, turned France into a frog), Arthur sighed. It wasn't that uncomfortable, actually. Just strange, really, to be used as a pillow.

* * *

After a quick drive to America's New York penthouse, a quick bathroom break (and plenty of moaning from said nation as he picked up dog poop), and seven hours later, and both Alfred and Arthur were wide awake. Well, Arthur was wide-awake. Alfred looked like a typical college mess before their morning coffee. After drinking a cup of that vile drink, Alfred finally seemed to remember he now had a dog.

"Hey, Artie. I guess you want something for breakfast… Ugh. What do you feed dogs besides meat? I'll have to grab some dog food later today. No, don't give me that look, it's good for you!" Alfred said, scowling mildly at Arthur glare. Dog food… It didn't look very edible. Then again, I'm now a dog, so I might as well try, Arthur thought. And it was probably less likely to give him a heart attack. "Lucky you, I don't have any paperwork, so we can go on a walk and figure out what we're going to get you. Does that sound good?" Not as good as being human again, but it would have to do.

Standing up, Alfred rummaged through his shelves until he pulled out a bowl (which only took him four tries, three swears, and caused him to find two things he had been looking for). He filled it with water quickly, and put it on the floor. Arthur realized how thirsty he was, having only had a quick drink on the plane. He lapped it up greedily, spilling water on the kitchen tile.

"Whoa, calm down, the water ain't going anywhere." Arthur would have winced at the poor grammar, but he was too busy drinking water. When he was done (water all over the tile), Arthur looked over at Alfred and woofed. "Huh? What now… Oh, don't tell me you have to go to the bathroom…" America moaned, rubbing his eyes and walking over to the door of his penthouse. Luckily there was a strip of grass right outside the front door, and Arthur bolted to it as soon as the door opened.

He finished quickly; a little embarrassed before he remembered that he was a dog. Still, he thought, it was better then going outside. He relieved himself quickly, walking back to Alfred and not looking up. Sure, the other nation thought he was a dog, but if he learned otherwise… Oh God, this is already embarrassing, and I haven't even turned back into a human, England thought.

* * *

"So, we need to get yah a leash first, 'cause you aren't supposed to be walking around without one," America said as the two walking down some street in New York. It wasn't very busy, but England attributed the early morning start to the lack of people. "And then a proper dog bowl and some dog food. Huh. When I think about it, maybe we should get two bowls. I mean, one for water and one for food…" Arthur found it somewhat entertaining that Alfred said 'we', while he was the one buying everything.

Being a dog, he had expected New York to smell terribly and for him to be stepping in trash every few feet. Sure, Arthur had been to the city before, but it had been some time. And he never had come to the Big Apple as a dog before.

It was certainly refreshing, he thought, looking around and sniffing the air. He could tell that there had been a peanut cart across the street, but it had left an hour or so ago. His nose told him where to step and where the trash and grime got too much for the neat and tidy nation to stand. Yes, being a dog is refreshing, he thought. But I still would rather be human.

* * *

"Do you want a dark green collar or a blue one? Or maybe I'll get one with red, white, _and _blue! I mean, 'cause I'm a hero!" America said, actually jumping up and punching the air when he said how he was the hero. Well, some things haven't changed, Arthur thought to himself. If he had been human, he would have sighed and muttered something about Alfred being immature. As it was, it was nice to have something normal in Arthur's very unusual week.

"Ok, dark blue or dark green?" Alfred asked, kneeling down so Arthur could choose one. Strangely enough, Arthur could tell the difference between the two colors. I thought dogs were color blind, Arthur thought as he poked the green one with his nose. "All righty, Artie! And I'll get yah a matching leash, so don't worry 'bout that!" Alfred seemed more energetic then usual, even though he was buying dog supplies. Not the most interesting thing to do in the world, but Arthur supposed it was better then paperwork. Well, to America at least.

"Sir, do you need any help?" A lady asked, walking up to America with a smile on her face, like she actually wanted to help. England could have snorted, but he wasn't able to as a dog. Alfred shook his head, paused, and then nodded.

"Actually, yah. What kinda dog food is good for him?" He asked, motioning towards Arthur. The lady bit her lip and put a finger on her lips, as if thinking. She probably doesn't know one brand from the next, Arthur thought glumly. And if I end up with some kind of crap I'm going to strangle somebody next time I have thumbs, he added on a darker note.

"Well, border collies need lots of protein, since they're so smart. I'd say something with meat in it, and a few good grains for vitamins and nutrition. The dog food is in the back," she said, pointing towards the right section. Alfred nodded cheerfully and walked off, Arthur walking behind him. This is insane… I should be finding a way to contact Norway, not shopping for dog food, he thought. Even though he wasn't very good friends with the Nordic, Norway was the only other nation who still practiced magic. Surely he'd be able to find some counter-spell….

Because, blast it all, England was _not _waiting for the spell to wear off. Who knew how long that could take?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Eh, ended the last chapter badly (I think), but whatever. Anyway, now we'll introduce some more madness into England-the-dog's life. ^^ We all know he secretly loves the attention he's getting from Alfred ^^ Anyway, thank you so much for the support for last chapter. I have written much in the Hetalia section, so I didn't know how much attention this would get. So please, keep the reviews coming! (Seriously, please?)

* * *

"So wait, bro, you're coming over? No, do _not _bring the frog over! And what do you mean I sound like Iggy? Ok, yes, he also calls Francis 'frog'. Well it's true! Oh, he's on the airplane with you? Hey, Francis, buddy-" Arthur let out a sigh as he walked alongside Alfred, who was chatting into his cellular like it was glued to his hand. It probably would make things easier for him if it was, since he was trying to hold onto a packet of chips, eat those chips, hold onto Arthur's leash, and talk on his phone all at the same time. If it had been anyone besides America, England would have been amazed. As it was, he was just disgusted and somewhat disappointed. Honestly, I taught the lad better manners, he thought.

At least my collar isn't on tight, he added. Though, being on a leash being held by Alfred was something he probably wasn't going to live down. He had a sinking feeling that this was going to be one of those moments in his (long) life that his brothers constantly annoyed him about. Well, I'll bloody show them. I'll turn them all into newts; see how they like that, England thought. As soon as I get turned back, everything will be fine, he told himself.

"Listen, for the last time, no, I didn't kidnap England. No, I have no idea why his note mentioned Norway. And no, I would not like to fuck England!" Alfred said the last part practically shouting, earning him strange looks. If Arthur had been a human, he would have looked like one of Spain's tomatoes. As it was, he only whined in complaint. This conversation was one he did _not _need to be listening to.

"Ah, mon cheri England will be heartbroken to hear his dear America doesn't love him~" France said on the other end, the phone doing little to make his voice sound any better. Alfred made a sound that was between a dying cat and a drowning elephant.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, accidently yanking on Arthur's leash. He let out a yelp as he was pulled into Alfred's leg, glaring at the blond. "Oh, sorry Artie. Francis is being a meanie," he said, leaning down and patting the top of Arthur's head. England let out a snort at America's childish speech. Honestly, what did the boy expect? France was always being a git…

"Isn't it obvious? Ah, the smell of unknown amour…. It lies heavily around you and Arthur. Don't you agree, Mattieu?" Francis said. England couldn't hear this Mathew's reply, but France laughed, so he didn't like it. "See, Amerique? Your brother even agrees with me!" America looked like he was torn between hanging up or trying to knock some sense into France. He chose to hang up.

"Ha, those idiots. There's nothing going on between me and your master, Artie, nothing…" Arthur didn't think he had ever seen such a confused and somewhat disappointed look on the nation's face before.

* * *

After a quick lunch break (for America, anyway) the duo decided to walk around Central Park. Actually, Alfred decided that Arthur (the dog) should get as much time walking around in the 'fresh American air' and that Central Park was 'the bomb'. So the two took a walk around, crossing paths with other dogs (and leading to Arthur being sniffed in _those _regions more then he would have liked) and other humans. Most of the time the dogs were with humans, after all.

"Don't you like the smell of New York in the afternoon?" America asked, laughing as the two sat down on a park bench. Alfred just sat down, but Arthur jumped up and decided to rest a little, laying his head on the wooden bench. It wasn't very comfortable, even though he had plenty of room to stretch out. "Hey, you can use my leg as a pillow if you want," Alfred offered. Reminding himself that the nation thought he was a dog and not the country that raised him like a brother, Arthur shifted so his head rested on America's leg. It was much more comfortable then the bench, though he would never admit that in present company.

"Aw, your dog is so cute!" A voice cried out. Arthur looked up and, yes, he was the only dog in the area. Moments later he was being hugged by some girl who looked like Ukraine, only with longer hair and smaller chest. But… Still, a big enough chest for Arthur to panic. "I love border collies! They're so smart, and they're so soft!" She said, smiling at both Arthur and Alfred.

"Ah! Oh, yeah, I know, right?" America said, startled by his citizen's sudden appearance. Now the girl ran her hands through Arthur's fur, cooing and awing over his expression (which, had he been human, would have been both frightened and perplexed). "I'm actually watching him for a friend," Al mentioned.

"Oh, really? He's so nice! He doesn't even care that I'm petting him," The girl exclaimed. Actually, he _does _mind, but he doesn't want to bite one of America's citizens, England thought curtly. A cell phone started to ring and the girl frowned. "He's a cutie, that doggie is! I've gotta go, handsome," she said, running off. Alfred frowned and looked at Arthur.

"Did she just call me handsome?" Yes she did, England thought. How rude… Even if it's somewhat true, England thought. He shook his head, clearing it of those thoughts. It was just the girl making him think that way, nothing else.

Now he wished he _had _bitten the girl.

* * *

Canada being closer to America then England (only geographically wise, since Arthur was convinced he knew Alfred better then anyone), Mathew and the frog arrived at JFK only two hours after their conversation with Alfred over the phone. And, of course, the perverted frog gave America those bloody three kisses like the Frenchie he was. Arthur resisted the (ever present) urge to rip Francis's throat out.

"Ah, mon cheri! We are here to help get Angleterre back, oui? And oh, what a dog he has. My, my, I can't believe that Arthur could have any kind of taste," Francis said, reaching down to pet Arthur's head. He drew his hand back quickly, after being snapped at. He shrugged. "A very… _English _dog, apparently," he commented.

"Hello, Al..." A soft voice said.

"Oh, Mattie! Didn't see yah there," Alfred exclaimed, pulling his brother into a hug, dropping Arthur's leash on accident. France didn't stop looking at the border collie, much to England's annoyance. What was he looking at? What he didn't realize was that his eyebrows had stayed with him, in the form of dark lines over his green eyes.

"You look much like your owner," Francis muttered. Arthur was starting to realize that _France_ of all people might be the one to figure out what had happened, when the playboy turned away to cop a feel of America's butt. "Hm… A nice ass, Amerique. Are you available, tonight-" France didn't get any farther then that, because America jumped away from him like he was on fire.

"Dude, like, no touching my ass. You aren't allowed to do that. Like, bad touch!" He shouted as loudly as possible. Arthur would have grit his teeth in pain, the sound echoing in his sensitive ears. Of course the loud American wouldn't realize that his voice was so loud that it hurt Arthur's ears. He probably wouldn't even care, the stupid git… "Hey, what did you do to my dog, Francis? He looks like he's going to faint," Alfred suddenly said, looking down. Arthur felt like he was going to faint, from the combined idiocy of two of his least favorite nations.

"Hm? Non, I did not do anything to _Angleterre's_ dog. Perhaps he is simply feeling sick from the smell of those hamburgers you always eat?" And the smell of France's cologne, which smelled disgustingly like roses, in a bad way that only France could achieve.

"What? What's that supposed to mean? Artie loves my hamburgers!" No I don't, I was just too hungry to care.

"Bah, those things are just as bad as England's food! And kill just as many people, too." "What? My food does _not _kill people. They just don't have good taste."

"Um, guys?"

"Huh? Hamburgers don't kill people. I mean, duh. And I think Iggy hasn't killed anyone. Yet. He nearly killed Prussia, that one time."

"Guys?" Where was that voice coming from? Arthur looked around but couldn't see anyone except for the frog and the American. Luckily they were in America's private hanger, or else they might have been dragged away by security.

"Oui. England cannot cook to save his life, a skill you have inherited."

"Oh, come on! My cooking is better than England's any day! Besides, at least I didn't inherit anything from you." At this, both Arthur and Alfred shuddered. The idea of America being French? Horrifying.

"Guys!" Suddenly the owner of the voice appeared, and it took Arthur a few moments to realize that, no, America had not developed cloning technology, it was actually Canada. "We need to go. Didn't you say you wanted to contact Norway?" He asked his brother. America blinked in surprise and then nodded.

"Oh, yeah, hey bro. Where'd you come from? I didn't see you there earlier!" Ignoring his brother's muttered 'I've been here all the time', Alfred continued. "Yeah, in the note Iggy left me it said something about Norway, so I figured we should get to the guy as soon as possible. So, we'll all head back to my New York penthouse for some awesome _American_ food, ok?" With that the North American nation walked off, completely ignoring the three stares.

"Amerique is… Different, oui?" Francis muttered. Canada looked at his former mentor, then back at his brother. Arthur, though he hated to admit it, thought the frog had a point. Alfred's usually cocky walk was a little less cocky, and the way he talked… It was even more idiotic then usual, like he was making up for something.

Whether Arthur liked it or not, apparently his disappearance was actually concerning to Alfred. England wasn't sure whether to be touched or terrified. Because, after all, everyone knew that when America was concerned, you got out of his way or were rolled over by the huge tank he wished he could drive everywhere.

* * *

Chewing the head of his frog-shaped chew toy was almost as satisfying as actually attacking the frog, Arthur decided. His mood was poor, whether from the multiple attempts France made to grab America's butt, or the perverted comments that flew right over Alfred's head he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he was damn glad that the frog and Canada (who wasn't as invisible when you were a dog) would be staying in a separate hotel. It would help save what was left of his sanity.

"Are you mad? We can't call Norway, it's nighttime over there," Canada cried out as his brother reached for the phone. Alfred frowned, like the idea of time zones was new to him. If not for the fact that he dealt with time zones all the time with his states, Alfred probably wouldn't have known what time zones were.

"Oh, yeah. So, you guys wanna watch a movie or something? I've got some killer horrors just out of Hollywood!" Alfred exclaimed. Francis, from where he leaned against the dinning room wall, sighed. America's lack of ability to watch horror movies without terrifying himself was infamous. Obviously the nation didn't want anything to do with one of Alfred's moods.

"Actually, I need to check into the hotel, and so does Francis. Maybe you could watch with Arthur's dog?" Mathew asked. Oh bloody hell no, Arthur thought. He gave his frog chew toy an even harder bite. It was hard enough to comfort the bloody bastard as a human; there was no way he was doing it as a canine.

"Oui, that sounds like a good idea," Francis said, standing up. Of course he would agree, the bloody French frog… France eyed Arthur warily, having watched him chew the head of the frog for a good fifteen minutes (most of which were spent with Alfred trying to convince Mathew that England had been kidnapped by aliens). Obviously France wanted to keep his distance from the border collie. Good, I don't want that nation anywhere near me, Arthur thought.

"Aw, guys don't leave me and Artie! Mattie, come on… Wait, Mattie?" Alfred's protests fell to deaf ears, Canada and France leaving without even a glance back. Arthur let out a satisfied grunt as he, finally, managed to rip the head off the frog. Alfred sighed and, running a hand through his hair, looked down at his new 'dog'. "Eh. I guess we can watch it ourselves!" He said, his childish excitement back. Arthur let the frog head fall out of his mouth and proceeded in trying to burry his head in his paws.

This was not happening. He was _not_ watching a horror movie with America, and as a dog! This was ridiculous. He was Untied Bloody Kingdom! Ok, he was also, currently, a dog without thumbs or even proper vocal cords, but those were minor details. He was still a nation, God damn it. And he had better things to do then-

His thoughts were cut off as America, in all his inhuman strength, picked up Arthur with one hand. His other held a container of pre-popped popcorn, covered in butter and who knows what else. Arthur let out a sharp whine, but he still found himself sitting next to Alfred as the teenaged nation (he acted like a bloody teenager) turned on the TV and, of course, dimmed the lights.

"Now, this is supposed to be a super scary movie, but I'm a hero, so you'll be safe!" America shouted, punching the air with half of his normal excitement. This is going to be torture, Arthur thought. He sighed as the movie started, shifting so his head was resting quite comfortably on his paws.

He didn't do anything for the whole movie, except for yelp when he realized Alfred was holding onto him for dear life. Some things never change, he thought. But, for whatever reason, he never made a move to shift Alfred off of him.

So that, Arthur told himself, was how he ended up being used as some kind of pillow on Alfred's bed, the blonde's head resting on Arthur's chest.

* * *

"What does he mean, he needs something for Artie's?" Alfred asked the room, brushing some sleep out of his eyes. He had, finally, woken up at noon. Norway's e-mail, Arthur read, said that he could try to find Arthur using a tracking spell, but he'd need something of Arthur's. "I don't have anything of his here. I mean, why would I?" Arthur sighed. Leave it to America to be a complete idiot… After all, he _knew_ they should have stayed in England. But no, the bloody idiot had to fly them across the ocean to his New York penthouse.

Arthur sighed as he sat on Alfred's bed, still remembering the feeling of being used as a pillow. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but it had been strange. Alfred hadn't used him as a pillow since before the Revolutionary War, and it had brought back a lot of bittersweet memories…

"I don't think I have anything Iggy has used recently… Ah, no, that's right." Alfred turned his seat around and looked at Arthur, beaming. "We're going to D.C!" He said excitedly. Wait, Arthur thought, what in the world can he have in there? He didn't have time to think about it, because Alfred had pulled out his phone and was, no doubt, calling his boss and making various arrangements. "I guess I'm going to leave you here, but you'll be all right on your own, right?" Arthur let out a sharp whine of protest.

No, no, no! You're bringing me with you, whether you want to or not, he thought. He leapt to his feet and actually started barking. Alfred's face morphed into a look of confusion, then he nodded slowly.

"Oh, ok. I get it. You want to be with the hero!" Alfred shouted, jumping onto the bed and tackling Arthur. England let out another yelp as he found himself in a wrestling match with the younger nation. Bloody hell, this is ridiculous…. Stupid nation, with his 'I'm a hero!' shouts….

The two of them ended up on the bed, Arthur lying on Alfred's chest, his tail wagging slowly. Both of them were panting, though Alfred made a bigger deal out of it then Arthur.

"Ugh, dude, dog breath!" Arthur wanted to say something about Alfred's breath being poor, but seeing as he lacked vocal cords… That was something that would have to wait for later. "Today we'll be on a road trip!"

Arthur, if that was physically possible, facepalmed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Oh, Arthur. You're killing yourself over this, aren't you? ^^ Anyway, thank you for your support! I've gotten a lot of faves and alerts on this one story, which is really cool~ So keep the reviews coming so I'll want to write more, haha. Anyways, don't own Hetalia. Or USUK would be cannon. (It nearly is)

* * *

The drive to Washington wasn't too bad. That is, they only had bathroom breaks four times (not counting the number of times they pulled up to a Mc Donald's drive-through, an experience Arthur was growing to loath) and Alfred's music was tolerable, so it was survivable to Arthur. As survivable as listening to three hours of country music can be, that is.

"Ah, here we are! My capital! Ugh… I think I need to sleep," Alfred said, walking out of the car and collapsing against it. Arthur let out a whine to remind the nation that he needed to let someone else out of the car. Alfred gave him an unsteady smile and Arthur could see that his eyes were a little tired, which was worrying. This was America, the most energetic nation (besides Italy running from a fight) in the whole world. Feeling tired. Was this the end of the world?

"Sir? We didn't know you'd be here today; we aren't done-" Alfred held up a hand as one of the security men walked up, looking like something out of a Hollywood movie. Ridiculous, in other words.

"I just drove six hours from my New York penthouse to get something. I'm staying here or in a hotel, whether you like it or not. Oh, and this is England's dog, Arthur. Call him Artie." 'Artie' let out a sharp bark, prodding over to Alfred's side. He had only been to Alfred's Washington home a few times, surprisingly. Most of the world meetings the nation held were actually in New York, since it was the location of the Untied Nations head quarters anyway. Despite that, Arthur had been to D.C itself many more times then he could count. Alfred was always very proud of his capital, like any other nation.

"O-Ok sir." The guard seemed a little uncertain on how to react to Alfred, and Arthur figured he was new. All the old guards knew that America was not your typical nation. For one, he hated having too much security, and kept things down to a minimum while he was actually in the building (hence the large security sweeps before and after). Another was that he rarely used any kind of honorifics. Arthur wasn't sure he knew the definition of being polite, since he just said whatever he wanted.

It was nice, Arthur thought as he followed Alfred, to hear someone so honest on occasion.

"I, like, need twenty hamburgers and thirteen packages of fries stat, or I'll die from hunger. Oh, and a really large coke. Like, the huge thirst buster size!" Alfred said as he walked inside. He ignored the stares of the new guards, the others more or less used to his antics.

On the other hand, Arthur thought, Alfred could learn the definition of 'dieting'.

* * *

Alfred let early that morning, with a pat on the head and a quick trip to the backyard for Arthur to 'do his business'. He didn't bring England, but all he said was 'you'd get in the way'. Slightly offended, Arthur found himself sitting on Alfred's armchair with his green eyes staring at the TV. Alfred had 'helpfully' put it on, and now he was stuck watching some bizarre cartoon where a mouse tricked a cat into falling into the most ridiculous and strange traps. It was slightly amusing to replace the cat with Francis, however, and pretend it was the frog that was getting beaten up.

At least that bloody alien wasn't there, much to Arthur's relief. He wasn't sure what he had done to annoy Tony, but the alien had hated him since the day they met. It was, of course, a mutual feeling. After all, the thing didn't do anything other than play video games and continue Alfred's obsession with space, when the bugger should be worrying about his failing economy… Blast it, Arthur thought as he stood up from the armchair and leapt down. I need to do something interesting before I loose my mind.

Looking around, Arthur decided to take a look around the large house. It hadn't changed much since the last time he was there, but it was still somewhat refreshing to see everything from a dog's point of view. Refreshing in a strange way, of course, since he wasn't able to see anything on tables or any relatively high surface, after all. If he had, he might have been able to see the notebook lying on Alfred's desk, labeled (not very sneakily) 'journal'. And, well, he might have tried to read it.

As it was, Arthur found himself jumping out of an open window to venture around Alfred's Washington D.C property. After all, it wasn't like he could get lost or anything, right?

Blast it; I could have sworn that the turn was the right one… Oh, bugger. If I'm lost, and in a foreign country, what am I supposed to do? And I'm a bloody dog, on top of it all, Arthur thought as he walked around the empty road. Alfred, Arthur knew from before, had two houses in the D.C area. One was a small apartment in the actual capital. The other was more in the countryside, where he'd stay if he needed to be by D.C but didn't want to be in the city itself. And, as Arthur was quickly finding out, it was far too easy to loose oneself in the large forest around Alfred's property.

At least I found a road, the nation-turned-dog thought moodily. He wasn't sure where it would lead, but it had to go somewhere, right? And he was wearing a collar, so he'd be able to get back to Alfred eventually… Arthur let out something resembling a snort, shaking his head as he continued to walk alongside the road. Stupid git. It's all his fault. If he hadn't annoyed me at the last meeting, I wouldn't have tried to turn him into a bleeding dog. And if I hadn't tried to turn him into a dog, the spell wouldn't have backfired…

Which is how I got here in the first place. The stupid American's fault. Arthur let out a huff as he shook his body, trying to get a little warmer. It wasn't like he wasn't used to the cold, but it felt weird, since he was a dog. Not uncomfortable, just weird. Fur is weird, Arthur decided. And besides, it's trapping all this water… In fact, it had rained last night, and Arthur's fur was starting to get fluffier because of the moisture in the air. At least, that was what the island nation figured. He wasn't an expert at animals, after all… No, that was someone like Australia, or maybe China. The man was always walking around with some weird cat thing, after all.

Arthur let out a yelp as a car suddenly sped past him, soaking him to the bone with water. Bloody Americans, driving too quickly for their own good… And on the wrong side of the road! Arthur thought with annoyance. He shook his fur, water spraying everywhere. When I turn back, I'm going to strangle America for putting me through this… It's all his blood fault! Arthur let out a sneeze.

Great, I'm getting a bloody cold. And it's not economy related either, it's because I'm walking around Washington D.C soaked to the bone! What kind of country is this, where a nation is walking around, stuck as a dog, because another nation isn't intelligent enough to realize the dog is actually England? Of course, I should have expected this. After all, I am in America…

England was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize there was a car stopped next to him until a car door opened and he heard someone shout his name. What the bloody hell? He thought, moments before he was picked up and pulled into the most awkward hug of his life (and he had plenty of bad ones before).

"Arty! You're safe! But, wait, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in the house!" Alfred cried out, grinning at the dog. "I told you I'd be back. Were you so lonely you needed to see me? Aw, I'm touched!" He said, frowning a little as Arthur struggled to release himself from Alfred's grip. No luck, though. He quickly found himself being turned around so he could see Alfred's beaming face, his grin blinding. "I have what I needed, so let's get going!" With that, Arthur was put in the passenger seat and Alfred buckled his seatbelt, only to take off at ten miles over the speed limit to Alfred's Washington house.

Arthur was slightly annoyed to see that he had been walking in the wrong direction.

* * *

"Ok, I just need to send this to Norway, and then I'll be able to get Iggy back!" Alfred said, opening up the car doors so Arthur could jump out. With the speed a certain American had been going, they had made it back to the house in what felt like record time. Either that or Arthur had just been too distracted trying to look behind the seats towards a large, obviously old, box that held whatever 'this' was. "I'll let you in, and then I'll be right behind you, ok?" Alfred said cheerfully. He opened up the garage door and made sure it would stay open, before heading back to the car to grab the box.

It wasn't very large, in all honesty. Maybe big enough to fit a smaller nation like Italy in, but Arthur really hoped it wasn't a nation. Still, he was completely stumped as to what he could have left at Alfred's main home. He hadn't stayed there since… Well, truth be told, he never had stayed there. So what in the world could Alfred have of his? The first thing that came to mind was a suit, but surely America would have returned them by now. And surely England would have noticed if one of his suits went missing…

"Careful, there, Artie. Almost stepped on yah!" Alfred said as he walked past the brooding dog. Arthur let out a snort as he followed Alfred into the living room, where the larger nation opened up the box after he set it on his couch. Almost immediately, Arthur jumped onto the couch to get a look inside.

No bleeding way, Arthur thought. I haven't seen those in… Well, since the Revolutionary War. In fact, I was almost certain the brat had thrown them out. Why in the world had he kept them? Despite the fact that it was touching to see his old suits, it was mostly puzzling. Sure, Arthur had several old toys of Alfred's, but that was only because he never got around to cleaning up his house. It wasn't like he actually missed being close to Alfred or anything.

"Ha, it's funny… Y'know, I kept these suits right where Iggy left them, when we broke apart… I kept his room the same, too." Alfred looked at Arthur, a sad gleam in his eyes. "I've never told anyone, but I used to go into Arthur's room when it was really rainy, or when I was in a lot of pain… Even though it was because of him, usually, I still found comfort in his room. The smell of tea, of old books, of… of _Arthur_. It just made me feel better. Like everything was going to be ok." Alfred let out a sad laugh, shaking his head and closing the box. "I'll send this to Norway. He'll be able to find Iggy, right?"

With that, the larger nation walked to get packing materials. Arthur was left sitting on the couch, completely and utterly stunned.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **So, things are finally getting started! Sorry for the shortness of the last chapter, I had to study my butt off for several tests last week and didn't have any time to type until the weekend came along. So yes, back on topic.

Arthur is being shown a side of Alfred that no one knows! Plus he's also struggling to figure out what exactly he feels for the 'hamburger idiot'. ^^ Ah, the joys of USUK. ^^ (Enjoy this chapter! Also, don't kill me!)

* * *

The package was sent without a hustle, and while Arthur was glad to see it go (Alfred was noticeably more cheerful with it gone), it didn't make his thoughts leave. Why had Alfred kept some old suits? Did Alfred still miss him, or was he 'too old' for his older brother figure? Was Arthur even worth considering Alfred's older brother anymore? Certainly America didn't really need anyone to watch out for him… But Arthur couldn't help but think that; maybe, Alfred was worried for Arthur for Arthur, and not for an ally. Well, he probably did. After all, allies didn't usually take in the other's pet.

Of course, nations usually didn't get turned into pets and become stuck with one of the most annoying nations on the planet, so the week wasn't exactly your typical week. Which didn't make Arthur feel any better, come to think of it.

Three weeks passed; more than enough time for Norway to get the suits and find that Arthur the dog was actually a nation and needed a counter spell. However, on the Friday of the third week, Alfred received a rather distressing e-mail. Distressing to the American. Depressing to a certain border collie.

"What does he mean he can't find England using the suit? It's not that old! Ok, maybe it's kind of old, but still. It's not like I could have contaminated the smell or anything… Or whatever the heck Norway is telling me here." Sitting on Alfred's bed rather attentively, Arthur was doing his best to read the e-mail without making it too obvious. Alfred looked like he wouldn't notice a train going through his bedroom at this point, though, so Arthur wasn't too worried.

The e-mail, to put it simply, explained that Arthur's scent was too weak and Alfred's scent too strong on the suits, meaning that any tracking spell would just find Alfred instead. Norway continued on to mention how he'd go over to England and find something there himself, since it seemed that America was (here the part was hidden by Alfred's shoulder, but Arthur had no doubt it was a cleverly hidden insult). All it really meant for Arthur was that he'd be spending more time as a dog, and more time with Alfred.

* * *

In all honesty it wasn't that bad. Alfred played with him daily, which kept him entertained, and seeing things from a dog's point of view was still rather interesting. And while he really disliked going to the bathroom, and dog food was quickly becoming his least favorite food (beating both French cuisine and American hamburgers), at least he didn't have fleas. Yet. With the way things were going, Arthur wouldn't be surprised if he learned he had a tapeworm or some really rare dog disease. After all, it looked like the world was out to get him.

"Oh well… I guess that means we'll just have to wait together!" Alfred said, turning around in his chair to look at Arthur. "I don't suppose we could go see a movie, which kinda sucks… But we can always head to a park, or go on a hike!" Instantly cheered up at the thought of spending some time doing some ridiculous outdoors thing, Alfred stood up and started taking his T-shirt off. "I can't go hiking in this stuff, so you'll have to give me a moment to get ready," he said, voice muffled.

Arthur would be lying to say his face wasn't going beat-red (well, as much as a dog could blush) from the sight of Alfred stripping. While there were several rumors about Alfred's actual fitness state, it was generally agreed on that he wasn't actually that fat. In fact, being the strongest nation out there, one could make a good case for him being quite fit. And while Alfred was never going to be able to go onto a bodybuilding show, he certainly wasn't unattractive. Well, as far as Arthur was concerned.

I suppose a hike wouldn't be too bad. After all, it's much better then listening to the idiot play his bloody video games all bloody day… Arthur sighed, jumping off the bed to go out to the living room. Besides, some fresh air would probably be good for me.

* * *

Days passed, turning into weeks. Arthur and Alfred had settled into a somewhat-familiar pattern. Alfred would wake up at seven, let Arthur out to go to the bathroom, and make breakfast for the two of them. Alfred would go to the office for three hours, bringing Arthur along with him. While Alfred did his paperwork and complained (with the occasional important meeting thrown in), Arthur would mope around at his feet. At lunchtime the two would go out, Alfred eating a hamburger at the local McDonald's and getting some water for Arthur (being a dog, Arthur only needed to eat twice a day). Then they'd go back to the office and be there until five or six, occasionally later if something important came up.

"Mattie… I really miss him, y'know? I know, I know, it's stupid… But what if he's hurt? What if he's in trouble, waiting for a hero to save him? I feel so useless! How can I just sit around and not worry? What kind of friend would I be, if I did that? Yeah, ok. Tell Francis he's a perverted idiot, but he should keep a lookout for Artie." Alfred sighed, closing his phone with a snap. He looked down at Arthur, giving the 'dog' a painful smile before reaching down to rub his ears. "Sorry, just talking to my bro about your owner… We can't find him, but nothing has happened to England… It's killing me, the waiting. I just want to know if he's ok…"

Arthur would be lying if he said it didn't feel good to hear that Alfred was worried about him. Alfred F. Jones, the personification of America, who couldn't read the atmosphere if it came up and slapped him in the face, was worried about him. So, while it felt nice to be missed, there was one thing that constantly bothered Arthur.

It had been nearly a month since the spell backfired. What if it never wore off?

* * *

Eventually, Mathew had to go back to his own country, and stop hopping across the border every day. With him gone, Alfred's mood plummeted. He still looked fine, of course. He still ate like an animal, consuming more calories then bears going into hibernation. He still played his bloody videos games more often then he did his paperwork. He still played catch with Arthur and went on long walks through the nearby forest with him. But it was the smaller things that caught Arthur's eyes, because the island nation was still as sharp as a sword, and he knew Alfred.

During a storm, the larger nation would curl up with Arthur, holding onto him like a child holds onto their blanket. It was often uncomfortable, but Arthur never had to the heart to pull away, especially after he heard 'England' and 'Iggy' being muttered in America's sleep.

That didn't make it any easier on the nation-turned-dog, as he was currently wide awake, jumping at every bolt of lightning. Now, usually, Arthur was quite fine with storms. After all, he had gone through many in the middle of forests, back when he was a young nation, to be scared of them now. No, the only reason the old-ish nation was still awake and jumping was because of a younger nation, clutching onto the dog like his life depended on it.

If it weren't for the fact that his ribs were being crushed, England might have liked it. As it was, he was going to have to tell the boy off. Honestly, he was so clingy.

* * *

"You still can't find him? Oh, ok. Keep trying, all right! We need to get Iggy back!" A pause. "No, it's not because I miss him. I mean, I just don't have anyone to bother right now." Shouting from the other end of the phone. "What do you mean, I sound like a little kid? Oh, don't give me that, France. Oh God no, I do not need this conversation with you. For the last time, I haven't kidnapped England! I wouldn't do that to him!" The next part, Arthur could hear.

"What would you do, cher, for him?" Surprisingly, America hung up without a second thought. The look on his face was one England hadn't seen since the Revolutionary War, and the nation could only guess at what it meant.

* * *

England was almost certain that the world was out to get him. The curse had been around so long that it didn't feel strange when he sniffed the ground before relieving himself, and curling his tail around himself as he watched Alfred play video games was a normal motion now. He was even starting to forget what it felt like, to speak and to eat like a human being. He was miserable.

"What's wrong, boy? Was it something you ate?" Alfred F. Jones, the self-proclaimed hero, was not helping. Arthur was torn between attacking his friend and just doing nothing. Sitting under the bed, he could just see America's bright blue eyes, tinged with worry. "Do I need to call the vet?" He asked. England didn't do anything, just blinked and turned a little, so he could no longer see Alfred.

Needless to say, the island nation found himself being examined by a vet. The diagnosis was simple. Arthur was just loosing the will to live.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **So, erm, it seems like I'm still alive. And I have some rather bad news for you all. This is the last chapter of Dog Days! Erm, yes, well. After this chapter is posted I'll be throwing up a oneshot (or two, depending on how much I feel like writing). About a week from now I'll also be putting up another multi-chap, focused on USUK ^^ All the info will be on my profile page, and I do hope you'll check it out.

As far as this story is concerned, thank you for sticking with me through crazy updating times and randomly shortening chapters (sorry about that). I know there hasn't been much solid USUK, but this chapter will wrap everything up as nicely as possible. With USUK as well, so that'll (hopefully) appease you all. ^^ It's been fun writing, but now you'll want to go on and read the story. Enjoy! ^^

* * *

Arthur wasn't sure who had the worse reaction, Alfred or himself. He certainly didn't feel like he wanted to die. More accurate, in the nation's mind, would be to say he wanted to be a bloody human again. But while Arthur just lay there, stunned, Alfred looked like he was about to faint.

"T-That can't be true!" Alfred blurted out, like he had just been told his favorite television show had been canceled. The vet was only able to shrug, looking like he was far too used to dealing with frantic pet owners. "Artie is perfectly healthy, you can't die for no reason!" Alfred slammed his hands onto the table, unsettling Arthur. He glared at America, but the nation was too distressed to notice.

"Sir, I assure you that the likely hood of death is minor… But there is nothing we can do here. If your dog's condition continues to deteriorate-"

"It's Arthur."

"Excuse me?" Alfred was staring at the ground, eyebrows furred into a rare frown on his face. The vet looked at him, confused.

"Arthur, here, is my dog. Come on boy, let's go home." Alfred gently picked up Arthur and walked out of the vet, not even stopping to pay for the check-up on his way out. Arthur didn't say or do anything, a little intimidated by this angry Alfred. He doesn't get angry, Arthur thought. Alfred can't, it's just not him. They walked out to Alfred's gas-guzzling truck (which he kept swearing he'd switch out for a more environmentally friendly car) where Arthur was placed gently into the passenger seat to be shocked once more.

Because, once Alfred turned the car on and pulled his seatbelt on, he started to cry.

* * *

When you constantly spent long amounts of time with America (not like England actually enjoyed it, it was only because the stupid git constantly came over for visits), you learned a few things. One was that there was hardly a time when he wasn't smiling, and those times could be kept on one hand (if you didn't include whenever the git watched a horror film or there was a storm about). The second was that only one nation ever had made America cry, and it was what's-his-face. Canada. Yes, him.

With those facts in mind, it made Alfred crying even more disturbing.

* * *

The ride back to Alfred's Washington home was quiet, to say the least. Alfred had recovered quickly, of course, shooting Arthur a painfully fake grin and saying how he must have gotten something stuck in his eye, and how'd he have to wash his eyes out more often. Considering it was an excuse a five-year old could see through, it fooled a total of no one.

Once they got to the home in question, Arthur was nearly left in the car due to Alfred leaving without opening up the passenger side. He reappeared two minutes later, full of apologies and 'I'm sorry's. Arthur was just glad he hadn't been forgotten for much longer; the humidity in the car was starting to kill him. Once they got inside, Alfred reached for his home phone and dialed a number, walking to the back of the house and into his bedroom. Somewhat confused and very interested, Arthur followed.

"Mattie! Pick up!" Alfred was moaning. Poking his nose through the door, Arthur looked up at the bed to see Alfred sitting down, a pillow between his legs, holding onto the phone like a teenager trying to reach his girlfriend. Except for the last part, it was pretty much true. And while it took Arthur several moments to remember who this 'Mattie' was, he eventually did and settled down on the floor by the door to listen in on the conversation.

"What is it, Al?" A soft voice asked. Alfred quickly sped into the conversation, using as many words as he probably could, though the point of his speech was simple: he was scared that Arthur seemed to be dying and he was lonely. "Listen, Al, Artie is probably fine. He just misses England, that's all," Mathew said. Alfred shook his head, his free hand holding his pillow in a stranglehold.

"That's not it, I'm sure. If it were, would he have been feeling worse sooner? I'm just really worried… What if Iggy comes back and thinks I killed his dog?" A pause, then Alfred let out a cry and continued. "What if Iggy _never_ comes back? What am I supposed to do then? Who's house do I go over to when I want to spend time being called an annoying git? Where do I go when I want to be force-fed scones and nearly die from food poisoning?" Alfred sounded like he had just been told Christmas, Fourth of July, and Halloween had all been canceled. No, it was more then that. It was like the most important thing of his life had been ripped from his grasp.

"America. Get a hold over yourself! Listen to what you're saying, for goodness sake. Arthur will come back and his dog will be fine. You just have to wait, that's all." Mathew sounded exasperated, though Arthur didn't blame him. Alfred was being far too immature, after all. And to think he was over two hundred years old, ages for humans. Then Alfred's words sunk into Arthur's mind.

The git… He actually misses me? Well, no, that wasn't what surprised Arthur. No, it was more the sound of desperation that sunk into the island nation's mind. Alfred… He really did sound like he'd be completely lost without England, like his whole world would be completely destroyed. What's that supposed to mean? Arthur thought bitterly. He was the one who left me! Who left me heartbroken for over a hundred years? Him! Arthur let out a sneeze, and he heard Alfred shift on his bed.

"Mattie… I've got to go; Artie just sneezed…. I'll call you later, ok?" Alfred let out a heavy sigh and hung up, shutting his phone with a snap. "Artie, boy, do you want to come up here with me?" Arthur shook his fur out before padding over and jumping up on the bed, accidently landing on Alfred's lap.

Alfred gave him a small smile, running a hand through his fur. It felt nice, really. Alfred had somewhat tough hands, but his touch was soft and gentle… And the way he seemed to know exactly what Arthur needed, without any vocalization, made England wonder why the North American nation didn't have a dog in the first place.

"I really miss England, y'know," Alfred said suddenly. Arthur looked up at him and tilted his head. He had long since learned that acting like a dog was the easiest way to communicate with America. "I haven't seen him in so long… And I know I don't act like it, but I really do care for the ol' man…" Alfred let out a bitter laugh. "I'm worried, really. It's stupid. Arthur can handle himself, but he's just so small compared to me… I know he doesn't like to admit it, but, if I wanted to, I could crush him. He hates it, because he used to be a big empire… But he isn't. Not anymore." Alfred buried his face in Arthur's fur, breathing in and out, his hot breath tickling Arthur.

They fell into silence, Alfred just breathing in and out, and Arthur enjoying the feeling. How long had it been since they were so close? It felt like ages… America had grown up, after all, leaving nations like England behind in the dust. And sure, they were on better terms now, but what did that even mean? It meant a military alliance, good relations, and trade between the two nations. Nothing more, nothing less. And whom was Arthur kidding? He missed the days, way back when, when he could go to America and feel needed. When he felt like he was the best part of someone's life. And where had that gotten him, exactly? It had gotten him dethroned from his empire, brought him into ruin and over a hundred years of a broken heart.

"What am I supposed to do? I really just want to see Artie again, to grab onto him like I used to when I was a kid and never let go…. Tell him that I could never hate him." Alfred let out something that was a mix between a whine and a sob. "He hates me! He probably will never forgive me for the revolution... What am I supposed to do about that? When all I want is to get his forgiveness, be able to be friends. Are we even friends? I mean, I know we have an alliance and all, but what is that supposed to mean?" Alfred paused and seemed to recall that he was currently baring his soul to a dog. He sighed and pulled Arthur into a hug, which the dog didn't try to fight against. Usually England would have been mortified, but now… He just didn't know what to do. "I miss England. I miss his giant eyebrows, the huge stick up his ass… I miss being able to talk to him and know that he's listening, even if he doesn't seem to care. Damn it, I even miss him shoving his scones down my throat!" Alfred let out another wail and flopped back on his bed, letting go of Arthur and shoving a pillow over his face.

Arthur, through the two months where he had been transformed into a dog, had never wanted to be a human again so badly.

* * *

The two of them must have fallen asleep, though it was only noon, because Arthur woke up on Alfred's bed. He yawned and stretched, looking around blearily. Wait, stretched? Arthur sat up, looking at his arms, which looked completely alien to him. What happened? Arthur thought, looking around the bed. Alfred was still asleep, drooling slightly on his pillow. He had forgotten to take his glasses off, the git. Arthur smiled slightly as he pulled Texas off America's nose and set it gently on the bedside table. Then he realized what he just did.

"Yaah!" Arthur screeched, jumping out of the bed and tripping on the ground, unused to having only two legs and no tail. It was cold, damn it. It had not been this cold when Arthur went to sleep, he was sure of it. Then he remembered he didn't have fur anymore, which could probably explain that. Of course, despite America being a supposed heavy sleeper, he actually woke up very easily. And hearing someone shouting and tripping in your bedroom was a pretty good way to wake up.

"Get outta my house, thief!" Alfred shouted, reaching towards his bedside table for what Arthur assumed would be a gun. Then Alfred blinked, probably just noticing that things were all blurry. "What the hell? Artie, where are yah?" Alfred groped for his glasses and pulled them on, then swore heavily. "What the hell! Arthur? What are you doing in my room?" A pause. "What the hell are you doing naked _in my room_?" Arthur let out a growl, threatened, momentarily forgetting that he was human now, and had actual vocal cords.

"A-Alfred! I am Artie! I mean, I was the dog!" Knowing he was probably making no sense, Arthur suddenly went red. He wasn't wearing any clothes. In front of America. Arthur struggled to his feet, grabbing the sheets off of Alfred's bed. He was just able to throw them over him like some kind of robe when he fell back down, his balance completely shot after spending two months as a dog. Alfred looked skeptical, but the lack of any border collie walking into the room seemed to help.

"What do you mean, you were the dog?" Arthur sighed before giving him the short version of what had happened. It took only five minutes, and Arthur cut out the part about the original target being America. That would be something to share for later. At the end, the two fell into silence, Arthur still sitting on the floor. Then Alfred started laughing. "Dude, seriously? You turned yourself into a dog? Like, you think I'm going to really believe you?" Arthur, in all honesty, had never been more embarrassed in his whole life. What was he thinking? Of course Alfred didn't care about him! It was all just a sham, something the boy had said because he thought he was alone and would never see England again.

"Fine, if you're going to be a total and utter bastard about it, I'm leaving!" Arthur snarled, heading out of the room. It wasn't until he reached the living room that he remembered that he wasn't wearing any clothes. In fact, he was only clutching a sheet around him like a child hung onto a security blanket. Swearing, Arthur stomped back into Alfred's room and glanced around.

The messy nation had several shirts hanging off of various pieces of furniture, and while it was all going to be massive on Arthur, it was better then wearing a toga-like piece around Washington D.C. Ignoring Alfred's stunned stare, Arthur grabbed a black T-shirt and threw on a pair of blue jeans, blushing wildly as he did so. It felt strange to have clothes on, and it was not comfortable to be wearing blue jeans without anything underneath, but Arthur was _not_ borrowing anything like that from America. He would already have a hard enough time scrapping up what pride he had left.

"Arthur!" Alfred cried out, but it was too late. The island nation had already marched out of the bedroom and was out of the house, fully intent on walking his way out of this mess. Quite literally, of course.

* * *

To say that this was bad would be an understatement. Arthur Kirkland, the representation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, was walking around Washington D.C.'s absolutely amazing forest, having ducked into the trees the moment a car had come running, totally and utterly lost. Without any shoes. Somewhat hot, since he was wearing a too large black shirt and blue jeans that suddenly were a lot more annoying then anything else.

"This is bloody ridiculous," Arthur muttered as he stepped on a stone and cut his foot open. Swearing, he sat down on a nearby tree stump and held his face in his hands. America was never going to let him live this down, and things were just getting worse. How was he supposed to find his away around this completely strange forest, with an injured foot? He'd be lucky to last the day, at this rate. He half expected a bear to come charging out of the woods, hungry for nation-flesh. That painted a picture that Arthur would have to remove from his memory.

Letting out a cry of anger, mixed with sheer confusion, Arthur hit the nearest thing next to him: a tree. Of course, he did not have the strength of a certain annoying nation (which he was currently stuck in), and only ended up with a bruised and now bloody hand… And even more anger, which defeated the purpose of punching the tree in the first place.

"Why did this happen to me? Why now? Why in the whole bloody world do things like this happen to me?" Arthur shouted, trying to loose his anger by shouting at the trees. It didn't make much sense, but at least he felt better. "The bloody git doesn't even care! Heck, he's probably jumping for joy, glad that he doesn't have to worry anymore… I can't trust anything he says, can I?" Arthur didn't realize that there were stray tears falling down his face until they fell, dropping onto the ground and breaking in a silent crash. "He's a liar and a coward. He just plays with people for his own enjoyment… He doesn't care about me, or anyone else! Just himself…"

"You know that's not true," Alfred suddenly said, wrapping his arms around Arthur. He breathed in, burying his nose in Arthur's hair. Arthur felt his blood run cold.

"H-How much did you hear?" He mumbled. Alfred pulled away and England was worried that he was running away, that he was just some figment of his imagination, but the cheerful blood reappeared in his vision. He knelt down in front of Arthur, resting his hands on England's lap.

"Enough. Why did you run?" Leave it to Alfred to cut to the chase. The boy really had no idea about the definition of subtlety. At the same time, it was one of the cute (almost alluring) things about him. He never messed around with things. Well, not when he was serious.

"… You were nervous, and I didn't think you'd care. It's… It's hard to believe, but yes. I turned myself into a dog and have spent the last two months as a border collie." There was a pause while the two sat in silence. Alfred stared attentively at Arthur, his blue eyes piercing deeply, trying to understand the puzzle in front of him. Meanwhile Arthur did his best not to meet America's gaze, looking away nervously. Finally, Alfred shifted and stood up, yawning.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm tired. We should get back and check your foot, and then you can call your boss and tell him you're ok." Alfred reached down and moved to grab Arthur, but the island nation shoved his hands away.

"What do you think you're doing?" He screeched. America rubbed his head, shrugging.

"I figured you couldn't walk with your foot all cut… So I was gonna carry you!" Deciding to ignore the blatant destruction of his beautiful language, Arthur made a face that clearly said 'no way in hell'. "Ok, then. You can walk back to the car. Alone. On the dirty ground. Without any shoes." America started heading back, and got three yards away before Arthur gave in.

"Bloody idiot! It's your fault I'm out here like this, so get back here and take responsibility for once and help me back, damn it," he shouted. Alfred grinned and walked back, casually picking up Arthur, though the nation went pink. "Why," he asked, "are you carrying me like a girl?" America giggled. _Giggled_, like a little girl.

"So I can do this, of course," he said. He pulled England, who was being held in his arms bridal-style, into a quick peck on the lips. Arthur froze, his face going bright red, all the thoughts flying from his head. Alfred F. Jones, the young man he had raised like a little brother, had just kissed him. "Ah, I'm sorry, Iggy. I just figured you'd like it and I didn't know if I'd be able to tell you any other way and you just looked so cute-"

"What the bloody hell…?" Arthur cut off Alfred's stream of words easily, the younger nation falling silent with an 'eep'. Alfred swallowed, clearly nervous as he held onto England. It wasn't hard for him, but it was starting to look like a much worse idea now that he was actually doing it. "What did you go and kiss me for?" Arthur shouted, panicking. Alfred let out another 'eep' and dropped Arthur, a stream of curses coming from the blond. "What did you drop me for, you bloody git?" He asked. Alfred felt like he just wanted to wilt into the floor and die.

"I-I'm sorry! But you looked really cute and I thought you wouldn't mind and I really just don't know how to tell you I like you and I don't know anymore!" Alfred let out a shout and turned to kick a tree, and in his distress he forgot about his strength and managed to knock the tree over. In his defense it was a rather small tree, but it brought the two of them back to earth.

"D-Did you just say…" Arthur swallowed. "That you liked me?" Alfred turned back around and nodded, and just then England took in his appearance. The git hadn't even changed, he noted. He was wearing two untied sneakers, one of which looked around to fall off, and the clothes he had fallen asleep wearing that morning. It was clear that he had run out of the house to follow Arthur, only stopping in order to get his car.

"I'm sorry… Just, I didn't know how else to tell you! You aren't romantic or anything, and I didn't want to see like France…." Alfred trailed off, seeming to become aware that this was one time where his small talk was just going to bury him under a bigger mound of crap then he already was stuck under. The two fell into an awkward silence, Arthur still trying to wrap his mind around what Alfred had said, and America just praying that England wouldn't reject him.

"Well then. Pick me up, git." Alfred blinked.

"What?"

"Pick me up. Can you not hear? Or do I have to speak in some terms you understand, since you don't seem to be able to comprehend actual English." This was the Iggy America knew and loved. The one that yelled at him for everything from his appetite, to his bad grammar. Alfred didn't hesitate in grabbing his love and pulling him back into his arms, bridal style of course.

"I knew you loved me back! Even when you yell at me, and you try to kill me with your scones!" Arthur scowled, but he seemed fine in Alfred's arms. At least, he wasn't struggling to get out of America's grasp anymore. That was good enough. "Does that mean I can tell everyone we're dating now, 'cause I'm pretty sure it'll get France off your back," Alfred said. Arthur bit his lip, blushing at the thought.

If anything it would just encourage France to try to share his 'knowledge' about 'l'amour', something England really didn't need. At the same time, it would be nice for the other nations to learn that America was taken. America, taken by a small island nation no one really cared about anymore.

"O-Of course, America… If it means that much to you," Arthur muttered. Alfred let out a whoop of joy and jumped into the air, starting to walk back to the car.

"Awesome! Because I totally know that France is being a total stalker about you, he didn't stop asking if I had you locked up for weeks! And I know my bro will be super pumped… Once I remember what his name is, I'll call him. It'll be awesome, Iggy. You won't regret it!" Ignoring Arthur's cry of 'my name is not Iggy', Alfred continued to speak, talking about how every hero needed their girl.

Arthur sighed, knowing there was no stopping America when he got into one of his tangents, and loving every moment of it.


End file.
